Man vs Wild
by iwantpie
Summary: Preseries. Victim of a prank, Dean gets lost in the woods in some podunk town. Unfortunately, he isn't alone. Rated T just to be safe. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Victim of a prank, Dean gets lost in the woods in some podunk town. Unfortunately, he isn't alone.

A/N: I actually wanted the first part to be longer but adding anything would've just been filler and pointless to the plot. Also, ill-timed. First attempt at a multiple part fic. Also, it's the summer before Dean starts high school so he's 14 and Sam is 10.

----------

The sun rested atop the low mountains that sat in the horizon, slowly withdrawing from the sky. Night was approaching and with it, a frightening uncertainty. He knew what vile things crept through the night and the last thing he wanted to do was let himself be vulnerable. He needed shelter. He needed a weapon. But, most importantly, he needed to be found. It was just a matter of who found him first. He didn't know what was out there. Didn't know what he was dealing with. That was what was most dangerous. Alone and in the dark in more ways than one, he wasn't ashamed to admit he was scared, if only to himself. Only ever to himself.

Of all the ways Dean pictured himself dying, alone was not one of them.

----------

6 HOURS EARLIER

Dean twitched in his seat on the couch. Countless magazines lay forgotten in front of him, no longer able to hold his attention. He glanced, dejectedly, at the small fan oscolating in the corner, it's meager output not doing much to cool him down. He was bored. It was supposed to summer vacation and he should be rejoicing the fact that he doesn't have to go to some crappy school with even crappier classes, but so far the summer had started rather uneventfully. Sort of. He smirked at the memory of Teresa something or other's lips on his the day before. Hadn't ended pretty but that didn't mean it wasn't good. But that was then and now was death by boredom. He had nothing really to do.

Dean turned his head to his brother, Sam, and rolled his eyes. Kid had his head buried in some book that Sam claimed was on his summer reading list. Didn't he teach his little brother anything? Summer reading lists were for tools. If you absolutely just felt you must read them, for God's sake, wait until the last minute like a normal kid. Sam was definitely out for any entertainment value at the moment.

He stared, forlornly, at his dad at the kitchen table. John was doing research on his latest hunt and was in his own world at this point. Dean had offered to help several times, but John had turned him away. It wasn't that he couldn't guess why, but it still sucked. Dean had peeked at some of the research and reports John had acquired earlier and couldn't help but shudder. He supposed he should thank his dad for wanting to protect him from the images he saw but it was kind of moot at this point. It wasn't like Dean was innocent. He'd seen a hell of a lot of things he probably shouldn't have. Part of Dean couldn't wait until his dad trusted him enough to really go on hunts with him. He'd been training a lot lately and felt he was ready for, at the very least, small time stuff like more salt and burns. But John had been going after some big fish lately so that meant Dean was on the sidelines. If he would just get the opportunity to prove himself, then he would be helping his dad instead of wanting to chew his own arm off from soul destroying boredom. Okay, so that was exaggerating just a little.

He started bouncing his knee, looking from place to place before settling on the front door. He could go outside, but do what once he got there? His stomach answered his question with a low rumble. Sure, they had plenty of food at the place but this gave him an excuse to get out and do something. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed the outline of the condom he hoped he'd actually be able to use at some point before counting his bills. He had plenty of cash to load of up on sugar and soda and if he was quick, he could snag a skin mag without anyone seeing. Though, after the last fiasco, he knew he had to do a better job of hiding it once he got back. It wasn't his fault Sammy had found it. The kid had to see his first pair of tits at some point. Dad didn't quite see it that way and Dean got grounded from the tv for a week. And then he'd gotten lectured for stealing something so unnecessary in the first place. Says him. Dean thought it was as necessary as friggin' air.

"Hey, dad? Since Sam's reading and you're researching and won't let me help, I was wondering if I could take a run down to that market in town? You know, burn off some energy." John didn't seem to be listening and Dean bit his lip. "Dad?"

John put the paper he was reading down for a second and ran a hand over his face. "What, Dean? I'm a little busy right now and for the last time, you can't help" Dean frowned. Like he didn't know that after he'd been told several times already. Besides, didn't he just say that?

"That's not what I was asking. I just wanted to know if it was all right if I went down to the market in town."

John sighed, casting a brief glance at Sam and noticing why Dean was so bored. "You got money?"

"Yes, sir."

John seemed to think it over for a moment before answering. "I want you back before it's dark, you hear me?"

"No problem."

"I mean it, Dean. I still don't know what's out there and I don't want you running around, chasing girls." He gave Dean a pointed stare.

"You act like that's all I do." John glared. "I mean, yes, sir." Dean smiled, cheekily. He turned around and headed for the door. "A guy can't have any fun around here."

"Dean!" But the door was already clicking shut.

----------

Dean took great pride in only a handful of things. The top of his list was his near perfect aim. He says near perfect because he still wasn't as good as his dad. In his book, no one was as good as his dad, but was getting pretty damn good. Next was his awesome ability to successfully bullshit just about anyone. Teachers were the easiest. It was simple to talk your way in or out of things when you don't give them time to catch on. Moving frequently did have its advantages. But the thing he took most pride in was his gut. It'd taken him a while to get rid of the training wheels, that nasty bitch shtriga giving him the boost he needed, but he'd finally felt confident enough in himself to know when something was wrong. And something sure as hell was.

As previously mentioned, summer vacation started just two days ago when they arrived in this podunk town, but Dean had already managed to get on the bad side of some older boys. He'd made the mistake of kissing one of their younger sisters and they clearly overreacted. Maybe. Okay, he felt her boob so probably not. Honestly, they were only like two years older than him. They had to understand. Right? At this rate, he was never going to get laid.

His ability to bullshit obviously doesn't work on overprotective older brothers, however, and he barely made it out of there unscathed. But back to the problem at hand. He was being followed. Not hard to notice a car driving 15 under the limit, trailing a kid on the sidewalk, in broad daylight. Amateurs. Honestly, was everyone in this town an idiot? He reckoned those guys were still after his hide but if he got into a fight now, dad would have his ass on a platter. He needed to focus on the hunt and Dean didn't want to be responsible for screwing that up.

He took a sidelong glance at the pick-up truck and then around him. He knew running was the sissy way out but sometimes you had to pick your battles, and this battle was a lose/lose situation. There was no one else around, which was just Dean's luck. Not that it was going to do him any good. What was he supposed to do? Tell them he was being followed by a bunch of dickheads with their jockstraps in a twist? This was the kind of town that believed "boys will be boys" was some kind of natural law. Small towns weren't exactly the best place to lay low in, not when everyone and their mother knew when a stranger passed through. It was hard to not to get noticed. Dad seemed to have mastered the art of invisibility but Dean sure as hell sucked at it. One thing was for sure, he was gonna practice it from here on out.

The pick-up pulled up to the curb behind him and three of the guys hopped out.

"Great." Dean mumbled under his breath. They say hindsight was 20/20 and if you asked Dean tomorrow if he would've handled the situation the same, his answer would've been a big fat hell no. But Dean wasn't thinking about tomorrow. Instead of running, Dean did the stupidest thing he'd done all week; he turned around and faced them. _Screw running. Dad didn't raise you a coward_, Dean thought.

"Guys! Hey, how's it going?" Dean gave them the biggest smile he could manage, all teeth and none of the sincerity. He got a sneer in return.

"You got a sister, Winchester?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. He thought about telling them about his little brother being pretty damn close but he didn't think they'd appretiate him joking right now so instead he just shook his head.

"Yeah, didn't think so. So you probably don't know what they're like when they're upset. They're a real fucking headache, first of all. Always whining and crying over shit. And my sister? She's been crying about your stupid ass all day."

Jesus, he didn't really think he traumatized the girl. It wasn't like she pulled his hand away or smacked him or anything. He was pretty sure she even giggled. Then he remembered something a lightbulb went off in his head. She was supposed to be a good girl. Couldn't have big brother thinking his little sister was easy. Great, so instead, he gets his ass kicked. That's just perfect.

"Well, what can you do? Women, you know?" Dean huffed out a laugh, knowing he was a goner. _Should've run. Should've friggin' run_.

Big idiot brother took a step forward and Dean hastened to turn around, ready to take off. Unfortunately, one of big idiot brother's bitches had managed to get behind him and grabbed his shoulders. So, Dean did the only thing he could and kneed the guy in the junk as hard as possible.

"You little son of a bitch, you're dead!" Big idiot brother and his other bitches started after him and Dean was positive he would've gotten away if crippled junk hadn't snagged his ankle. _ Really, _Dean thought as he went down, _this is embarrassing_. So much for his training.

Dean was sure he got in a few good punches before it was lights out. He didn't know who threw the punch but one second he was there, the next there was nothing but darkness.

----------

The first sensation that came back to him was the feeling that the whole world was spinning around him and that was before he even opened his eyes. The next was his body bouncing against hard metal and suddenly sound came back to him and it took all his reserve not to outright panic. It was obvious he was in the back of those assholes' truck, but judging by the rough ride, they weren't in town anymore. No two ways around it, he was in trouble. He wasn't sure what worried him more; what they planned on doing with him or what his dad planned on doing with him once he got back. Quite frankly, the latter wasn't the more appealing thought.

Dean continued to fake it, figuring he could catch them by surprise once they stopped. It was as much a shot in the dark as them apologizing and letting this one go but he had to try. Dean Winchester refused to go down without a fight, win or lose.

He fought hard against himself to keep his body relaxed when the truck stopped and they pulled him out. He fought even harder when they tossed him down a small hill, landing him in a puddle. He figured then was a good time to "rouse", especially when he heard them laughing. His mind didn't connect the fact that the laughter was getting farther away until he looked up and they weren't in his visual. That's when he panicked. He knew where he was and they were leaving him there. Shit, they were leaving him there!

Dean scrambled up the hill on all fours, making it to the top just as the truck took off. He took off after it, but they were already too far ahead.

"Stop! You can't leave me here! You don't know what's out here! Stop!" They didn't stop and Dean stumbled to the ground on his knees, breath coming in gasps.

"Don't leave me here!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry for the long ass wait. Hope it was worth it. The Colt M1911A1 is what Dean carries and it was used by Marines so I figured John would use it too. There isn't much Sam in this story, simply because he's too young to hunt (though I know he was training) but I have tried to get him in there. Just a quick reminder. It's the summer of 1993. Cell phones weren't as popular yet and pagers were widely used. Oh how times have changed.

**Part 2**

John heaved out a sigh, tossing the page he'd been studying on top of the mound of books that had proven useless to him. Nothing fit and it was about to drive him near insane. It couldn't be a wendigo; they didn't leave much behind, if any remains. He tossed away werewolf from the beginning because the cycle was all wrong. Besides, only one victim was missing its heart and it wasn't so much missing as it was torn to shreds. He was losing time, time he didn't have to begin with. The only thing he had to go on were the local sheriff's reports and they believed it was either a bear or a wild dog. While a bear could certainly do this kind of damage, he highly doubted that was the case. He didn't have much reason to believe it wasn't other than his gut telling him so. He'd been hunting long enough to know when something was more than it seemed. Unfortunately, he wasn't getting anywhere beyond that.

The Department of Fish and Wildlife had been called in and were due to arrive in two days. They would go into those woods and John could guarantee they wouldn't be coming out. His only saving grace so far was the sheriff's insistence that everyone stay out of the woods, especially at night. There weren't any new missing persons reports since he arrived but that didn't mean anything.

He'd been deciding about calling someone to bounce ideas and see what stuck. He knew Bobby wasn't too far away but he also knew his friend was on a hunt of his own. It was the reason John was here to begin with. Bobby had heard about the attacks from another hunter friend of his. He couldn't check it out himself so he passed it onto John. Bobby wasn't sure it was their kind of hunt or not but John said he'd check it out. So, he packed up the boys as soon as school let out and now here he was, two days in and still no answers. Giving in, he picked up the phone and paged Bobby, hoping the older man remembered to bring the damned thing with him. As much as John hated the contraptions, they sure came in handy. Dean was still begging him to get one of those cellular phones, but he hadn't relented yet. Speaking of Dean...

"Dean?" John turned and looked out into the living room. No Sam either. He didn't hear anything and that was never a good sign.

"Sam!" No answer. "Dammit." John was about out of his chair when the phone rang. Picking it up, he grunted into the receiver. "Yeah?"

_"It's me. Got yer beeper thing."_

"Page."

_"Don't really give a shit what it's called. Near gave me a damn heart attack when it went off."_

"You finish your job?"

_"Would I have called you back so fast if I hadn't? On my way back now. You caught me gettin' a bite. What'cha need?"_

"Could use an extra set of eyes. How far out are you?"

_"Not too far. 'Bout 2 hours, I reckon. Less if I punch it. What's got your hackles up?"_

"Not sure. Hell, it could be a damn bear after all."

_"But you don't think it is."_ It wasn't a question. John knew it wasn't a bear. He just didn't have any other answers.

"No, I don't." He heard a sigh through the receiver.

_"I'm leaving now. Try not to do anything stupid in the meanwhile."_

John snorted when he heard the dial tone. Running a hand down his face, he remembered he needed to check on the boys. Three long strides and he was at the closed bedroom door. It was always a reminder that his boys were growing up and wanted more privacy. Well, as much as they could get staying at motels and shitty apartments. John knocked a couple times before opening the door. He found Sam on his bed, listening to Dean's walkman. It's no wonder he hadn't heard him call out. The kid's eyes were closed so John walked up and slapped Sam's foot to get his attention. He jumped slightly, removing the headphones.

"Where's your brother?" Sam scrunched his face, in annoyance or confusion, he wasn't sure.

"Thought he was in there with you." John looked at his watch.

_Shit._

----------

Dean had followed the tire tracks for 15 minutes before they split off into another direction, thus creating quite the dilemma. The optimist in him said both had to lead back to the road eventually, but then he remembered he wasn't much of an optimist. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. It could've been just a few minutes or it could've been 10 or more. He wasn't the best at math but even he knew a truck could travel a lot further in a couple minutes than he could on foot. A lot further. His shoulders slumped. The only thing keeping him from freaking out was the fact that it was still light out. Once night fell, he was pretty much fugly bait. Looking behind him and then back at his two choices, Dean bit his bottom lip and chose the tracks to the right, silently wishing they'd never come to this town.

----------

John was putting on his boots when Sam sat down at the kitchen table. He grimaced at the photos, turning his head quickly back towards his dad.

"Where're you going?"

"To find your brother and beat his ass."

"Thought you told him to be back before it got dark? It's still light out." Everyone always thought Sam wasn't listening. John would have to remember not to make that assumption again.

"Gonna get dark real quick. Besides, we don't know this town and they don't know us. Dean's been twitchy lately. You know how he gets."

Sam sighed. If there were ever an ambassador for ADD, it would be Dean.

"Can I come?" John tucked his Colt M1911A1 in the back waistband of his jeans and slipped on a jacket before turning to Sam, a concerned look on his face.

"No, I want you to stay here in case he gets back before I do. If he does, tell his ass to stay put."

John was halfway out the door when Sam spoke again.

"If he's grounded, can I have his walkman?" He didn't bother answering that. Part of him wanted to be pissed at Dean for being gone so long but he couldn't ignore the bad feeling in his gut. Yeah, it was still light out but Dean should've have been back by now. They didn't know a soul in this town but that didn't mean Dean hadn't found trouble. Or more likely, trouble had found him. Some things were just easier when both boys were younger. Keeping out of trouble was one of them.

----------

Another twenty minutes in, it had started to lightly rain. It wasn't much longer before it began pouring down upon him. Dean remembered learning about Murphy's Law at some point in school and figured today was a shining example. The ground was starting to get saturated, the deep grooves left by the tires turning to mud and eroding. It didn't matter. Dean knew these weren't the right tracks. The more he thought about it, he realized these tracks were too big, the tread too deep. The truck that brought him here had regular truck tires. The tracks he'd followed were larger, off-road probably. He'd made the wrong choice and now his breadcrumbs were melting back into the ground. His shoes were soaked through, his shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably, and the gel he had put in his hair was running into his eyes. He blamed the burning sensation behind them on that because Dean Winchester wasn't a baby and he sure as hell didn't cry when he got a little lost in the woods. But he was more than a little lost. This wasn't like some stupid family movie about a boy and his dog lost in the woods that magically make it out alive through sheer determination and obscene wilderness skills. For one, Dean didn't have a dog and he hoped he didn't run into one out here because chances were it was wild and hungry. Second, he knew jack shit about surviving in the wilderness. He did have one thing, though, and that was determination. Mostly to get out of there, find those assholes, and kick their asses properly.

Turning around and taking in his surroundings, Dean pushed his wet hair off his face. _Time for a haircut_, he thought absentmindedly. He hadn't been paying close attention to the terrain, another mistake. He was making lots of those today. He could make out the basic path he took and started back without further hesitation. Not for the first time that day, Dean wished he'd brought his gun.

----------

John shoved his hands in his pockets as he made his way down the main road toward the center of town. It had started to rain shortly before and had settled into a steady downpour. John didn't care about the rain. He had other things on his mind.

He never was fond of the backwoods places. All towns had their secrets and ways about life, some just weren't as appealing as others. He'd been through towns that scrutinized your every move and others where he was barely a blip on their radar. He preferred the latter but sometimes you just couldn't avoid being noticed.

Dean was a good kid. John knew he never went out of his way to cause trouble, but somehow Dean managed to find a lot of it lately. John wasn't stupid. He vaguely remembered what it was like being a 14 year old boy. And didn't it make me feel all that much older using the phrase _"when I was your age..."_. But the truth was, things were different. A hell of a lot different. John wished more than anything that he could give Dean and Sam normal lives but it was much too late for that now. They couldn't afford the same luxuries and Dean's hormones were going to be the death of him. He remembered a time when Dean used to be a quiet kid. Hell, he still was sometimes. But Dean had a mouth on him, that was for sure. Eventually, it'd come in handy - when he learned to control it. Until then, it set John on edge. The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he got. He knew what he told him, but dammit, Dean knew not to be gone so long. He should be focusing on the hunt. Dean knows that. John swore. If he found him out behind the store looking at skin mags again he was going to kick his ass.

----------

Over an hour later, after asking around the entire town center, John was in a panic. No one had seen Dean and just as he was about to head back to the market, hoping by some higher power that Dean would simple show up, some teenager had meekly approached him. He'd seen the kid in the market with a few others when he was asking the cashier if she'd seen Dean earlier. He remembered asking them if they'd see his son, but got all negative replies. What the kid had to tell him had John feeling murderous. They had left his boy out in those woods.

_"We just meant to scare him! Honest, sir, we went back to get him but he was gone."_

_Of all the stupid..._ John had a better time understanding monsters and demons than he did humans. He knew they didn't know what the hell they were doing, leaving Dean out there as a joke, but that didn't stop him getting in the kid's face and grabbing his collar.

_"You listen to me, and you listen good. You're going to tell me exactly where you left my boy and if I don't find him like you _left him_ - you don't want know what I'm capable of."_

If he wasn't so spittin' mad and terrified right then, he would've enjoyed the look on the kid's face; a cross between crying and pissing yourself. You don't mess with family, God dammit. He all but ran back to their place, throwing the door open as soon as it was unlocked and causing Sam to jump from the couch.

"Dad?" John didn't answer, instead tore through his notes trying to find anything that told him what he was dealing with. "Dad? Where's Dean?"

John didn't look up but manages to respond. "Missing." Sam's eyes widened.

"What do you mean 'missing'? Dad!"

"Dammit, Sam! I need to think!"

"Screw your stupid hunt! Where's my brother?" John scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

"He's out in those woods, lost with whatever's out there. Where the hell's the phone?"

"But you said - you said he couldn't help. Why would he do that?"

"He didn't." John growled, finding the phone under a pile of loose paper. He dialed Bobby's pager again, not sure what good it would do if he was on the road. He left him a 911 message and slammed the receiver back down on it's cradle. "Fuck!"

He needed to think. What time had he talked to Bobby? _Drive faster, Singer, or I'm leavin' without you_.

Fifteen more minutes of tearing through useless research, John finally heard the roar of an old engine pull up. He opened the door before Bobby was even out of the car, swearing he could've kissed the man for being true to his word and getting there in under 2 hours.

"Dean's missing. Some God damn punk kids tossed him in the woods as a prank." John threw over his shoulder, heading back to the kitchen. Bobby followed close behind, a curse passing between his lips. He figured the 911 page was John just being impatient. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Shitty luck seemed to be synonymous with the name Winchester. With them not knowing what was out there made all that much worse. If they had an idea, they might know Dean's chances better. He gave a slightly weary glance towards Sam. The kid had known the truth almost 2 years now but that didn't mean Bobby was any more comfortable talking about certain things in front of the youngin'. Never mattered much with Dean. Should have. There were a lot of things he wished were different for these boys, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"Hey, kiddo." Sam nodded a hello, coming up behind John and leaning on the refrigerator. "How long he been missing?"

"A couple of hours. Maybe three."

"Get any further on that research?"

"No." John gripped the back of the chair so hard his fingers turned white, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "God dammit!" He cursed, punctuating it with a hard fist to the table. Behind him, Sam winced and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Bobby gripped his friend's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.

"Take it easy, John. We'll find him. Just need to keep our heads."

"That's easy for you say, Bobby! That's not your boy out there!"

That statement cut to the bone. Sure, Dean wasn't Bobby's son but he cared about the boy just the same.

John didn't need to look at Bobby to know he'd said something wrong. "Ah hell, Bobby. I know. Alright, I know. I just- I gotta find him. We don't know what's out there. He could- Shit." John scrubbed a hand over his face before putting them both on the table, head hanging.

"We'll get him back, John. Dean's a pretty resourceful kid." One side of John's mouth quirked up, knowing damn well how true that was, but it faded quickly. As resourceful as Dean was, he'd never faced anything like this. No, they needed to leave and they needed to do it now.

"We'll take whatever we think we'll need."

"John-"

"The sun's already starting to set. We go, now." John's voice was firm and Bobby knew they didn't have time to argue. He simply nodded and went to get his gear from his trunk.

"Dad?" John turned and looked at his youngest. He knew Sam was scared and a good father would do more than put a .45 in his hands, but it was all he could do at the moment.

"You lock all the doors, Sammy. You put down salt lines and you stay put. Understood?" Sam reluctantly took the gun from John's grasp.

"But-"

"No buts, Sam. I don't have time for this, just do what I ask. Please." Sam's eyes widened slightly. Please wasn't really in John's vocabulary. He and Dean got orders, ones that were expected to be followed, but never please. The seriousness of the situation hit Sam hard and he clutched his dad's gun to his chest.

"Yes, sir." John sagged slightly, in relief.

"Good boy."

"You'll bring him back, won't you, dad?"

"Yeah, Sam. I'm bringing him back." He just hoped to whatever higher power was up there that that didn't end up a lie.

----------

Swift legs ran through the forest brush, harsh breaths escaping Dean's parted lips. The second he'd heard the crack to his left he was moving, his first instinct being one of panic. He didn't know where he was going and it didn't matter. He was already more than lost. But now the sun was going down and so were his chances for survival.

More coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Annnd sorry for the long wait... again. Always hoping it's worth it. Chapter's never as long as I like but egh. Okay so there's a common misconception I see in a lot of stories about John and the boys using salt rounds in their shotguns in wee!chester fics. But if you recall in the pilot, Sam hadn't seen that before. So it's safe to assume Dean or John came up with this while Sam was away at college. Maybe. Hopefully. That's how I'm writing it anyway.

**----------**

Dean curled into himself as much as he could atop the tree, stilling his breaths to shallow wisps, willing himself to calm down. He was covered in mud from head to toe. He'd wash it off back at the stream he passed if he didn't think it was helping to somehow mask his scent. Not that it mattered much. Even that wasn't going to help much if whatever what out there caught up with him. It could be watching him right now, for all he knew. This thing was smart and the only thing he knew about staying alive out here he got from movies and MacGyver. _Definitely need more Discovery Channel, dude._ To top it all off, he was cold, wet, tired, and smelled like ass.

He was never going camping. Ever.

As he waited for the sounds of the breaking branches and breathy grunts to fade further away, he briefly let himself get lost in the thought that people actually did this for fun. Survivalists, they called themselves. He could almost guarantee they'd be pissing themselves right about now. He could feel some pride in that. Sure, there was a good chance he was going to die unless his dad found him but at least he knew he'd be a man about it.

Kind of. He hoped.

From everything he was able to see from his dad's notes, this thing tore its victims apart, messy and violent in a way that tested your gag reflex. Not a pretty way to go, that was for sure. He shuddered at the thought of his own body being torn to shreds and left to rot in the woods. It was disarming and he needed to stop thinking like that. He knew he had to have faith that his dad would get to him before that thing did but all he could think about right now was _Please, God, don't let me die a virgin._

Ten minutes had passed and he still didn't dare move. He didn't know what kind of senses this thing had. For all he knew, it had super hearing or some other shit that was going to work against him. His leg had begun to cramp two minutes ago and all he could do was bite his tongue. Just a little longer. It was then that his stomach chose to rebel against him and let loose a low grumble. He froze, closed his eyes tight, and clenched just about every muscle he still had control over.

_Shit, please tell me it couldn't hear that._ Another gurgle and Dean could feel beads of sweat form across his brow. _Shut up! God dammit, just shut up!_ He waited. A crack sounded to his right and he jumped, nearly falling from his perch. Another crack and he was moving, climbing higher up the tree as fast as he could until the branches thinned out and he couldn't go any further. A rationalizing fear took over and he realized he'd just trapped himself. _Shit. Son of a bitch! What the hell was I thinking?! _

Then, there was nothing. The only thing he could hear were the sounds of his own raspy breathing. Still, he waited. Minutes passed and nothing came. He almost couldn't fight the burble of insane laughter the lodged itself in his throat. He just freaked out over what was probably a damn deer. If his dad could see him now. How embarrassing.

He slowly climbed back down the tree, not wanting to really be stuck up there if the fugly came back. For all he knew, the thing could climb. He was better off on the ground, moving. He hoped, anyway. He was starting to think he was pretty much screwed either way. Distracted with listening to sounds in the distance, he lost his footing three quarters of the way down. His eyes widened as he scrambled to get a hold of something but his hands couldn't garner purchase and slipped down the slick bark. The fifteen foot drop felt like an eternity until he collided with the ground with a grunt. The wind was knocked out of him the second he hit ground and all he could do was roll onto his back, slightly panicked, as he tried to breathe. As his chest began to untighten, his brain registered pain. Sharp, throbbing pain. It didn't take him long to realize his wrist was broken, which was just friggin' dandy. Not like he wasn't at a disadvantage out in the great outdoors already. He sat up slowly, wincing when his ribs protested the movement. They didn't feel broken but he was sure he bruised something. Now he could add pain to the long list of sucky things for the day. Just great.

----------

The drive was quiet, neither man willing to voice their inner fears. John's foot never let up on the gas pedal as they raced to the location Dean was left. Both knew there wasn't a chance in hell that those boys just missed Dean and he was just sitting there waiting for him. He knew Dean would've tried to find a way out but he'd studied the maps of the area and knew how dense these woods got. One wrong turn and Dean would end up even deeper in. When it came to their line of work, John knew to prepare for the worst. Nothing could ever prepare him for finding his son dead. Or not finding him at all for that matter. That wasn't an option in John Winchester's book. Neither was failure. Not as a marine. He only wished he could say the same about being a father.

----------

Bobby was good at multitasking. Next to his knowledge about demons, it was his best skill. So that's why he found it so effortless to scan the surrounding area, listen for any sounds, and keep a close eye on his friend at the same time. Bobby would never admit fear, especially to John Winchester, but he was honest to God afraid of how they would find Dean. He'd been missing for hours, lost in a place of carnage and death. He knew John had been training him. Hell, he and John got in a quite a few arguments about it whenever they stayed at his place. He didn't particularly like the way John had chosen to raise his sons but it wasn't his place to say so. Not that it stopped him from doing it from time to time. But now, Bobby was grateful. Dean knew there was something out there and that at least put him more ahead of the curve than most. But, without any weapons and nothing but the moon to light the way, Dean's chances were slim to none on getting out of this alive. He was afraid they were too late. If he was thinking it, he knew John was too.

----------

John stepped carefully through sodden ground, his Marine training giving him the ability to be silent while stalking his prey. He mentally went through a checklist every few minutes of what weapons were where and the time it would take to retrieve them. He had his shotgun loaded with iron buckshot in his hands and one of his .45's tucked at the waist in front. Bobby walked a few paces behind him, pretty much in the same boat, a duffel slung across each of their backs. It was mighty foolish to trek into dense woods at night without knowing what you were after, but they didn't have a choice. That choice was taken out of their hands the second Dean went missing. His son was out here, defenseless, and John could do nothing but blame himself. He hadn't exactly been going easy on the kid in the way of training, but when it came to the bigger hunts, he left Dean out of them. Didn't think he was ready. But who's fault was that? Not Dean's. Lord knew the kid tried. Never again, John promised. From this moment on, he was going to make sure both his boys were prepared for anything and everything. The supernatural world was no place to be sheltered and left in the dark. He was going to get Dean and he was going to make sure this never happened again. If it did, they would be ready. He just had to get Dean out of this alive first.

----------

"Dude, you're so screwed." He whispered. "Hey, that rhymed." He smiled, then shook his head. Now was not the time. Today was pretty much down the crapper but he was still alive, so that was something. Not much, but he'd take anything he could get at this point. His arm was throbbing and there was a tension building between his eyes. It been hours since he'd last eaten but that was the least of his worries right now. Didn't stop him from imagining a big, juicy cheeseburger with the works, a mound of fries, and a very large soda. Damn, he was thirsty. The temperature had dropped since the afternoon and a slight nip was added to the breeze, cooled down by the earlier storm. He'd started shivering some time back and wished like hell his clothes would dry already. His jeans were chaffing in places he didn't want to think about and his damp shirt was making his skin tingle.

"Dammit, this sucks out loud."

----------

Back at their rental, Sam paced the small living room, his dad's gun bouncing off his hip in one hand while the other clenched and unclenched compulsively. He hated this. He hated waiting. His eyes kept drifting from the door, to the window, to his dad's research and back again. All the exits were as secure as they were going to get, not that Sam believed anything would be coming in that shouldn't. At least he hoped. Sam was still too young to hunt really and to be honest, he was perfectly fine with that. His biggest regret was reading his dad's journal two years ago and finding out the truth. But he wondered; how much longer would they have kept it from him if he hadn't? Would he still but just as clueless now? Part of him wished he was and then maybe he wouldn't be so scared right now. He had no clue what was out there and it didn't comfort him any that neither did his dad or Bobby. He didn't know how Dean had done this all these years; sitting at home waiting for their father to come back. This time was different, though, because now he wasn't just waiting for dad. He wanted to believe like Dean did that John was a superhero but he just couldn't.

Sam glanced back to the table in the next room. He'd been trying hard not to give into the temptation to look at it but not knowing anything just made everything worse. With one last look at the door, Sam turned and made his way to the table. He set the .45 down and began sifting through his dad's research. He read the newspaper clippings, the obituaries, and the loose notes until coming across the police reports and photos. His hand flew to his mouth as his stomach began to rebel at the image of gnarled, human remains.

"Oh, God." Sam made it to the sink just in time to empty his stomach. He gripped the sink tightly, his knuckles white, as the sound of his retching carried through the empty rooms. Tears stung his eyes as he tried to catch his breath and he let out a whimper. "Dean."

----------

John knelt down next to what looked like footprints. They'd filled in some since the storm but he could tell there was force behind them. He couldn't make out the size but he knew they were Dean's. They were too new to be anyone else's. He started when Bobby knelt to his left.

"Find something?"

"Footprints. Gotta be Deans. They're too fresh."

"He was running."

John squinted into the distance ahead of them. "Yeah."

"Coulda been any number of reasons."

John wasn't buying that bullshit and Bobby knew it. Only one reason Dean would be running.

"Let's keep moving. Pick up the pace a little."

Bobby stood, his knees protesting. He readjusted the duffel and set back behind John. _Pick up the pace_, Bobby inwardly grunted. He was practically jogging already trying to keep up with John's longer legs. He wasn't going to complain though. He wanted to find Dean just as badly.

"This may sound like a bad idea, but should we try calling out for him? You said it yourself, the tracks are fresh. He could be near enough to hear us." John turned and leveled Bobby with a look that told him just what a dumbass idea he thought that was. "Don't look at me like I'm some stupid ass newbie, Winchester. If that thing's around, whatever the hell it is, it probably already knows we're here. The quicker we get to Dean, the better."

Bobby did have a point, John knew, but calling out to Dean didn't just mean giving away their location; it meant giving away Dean's as well. That was assuming it hadn't gotten to him already. John clenched his eyes shut at the thought. The grisly image of his son torn to shreds caused them to burst open.

"John?"

He hung his head for a second before taking another look around with the flashlight. It was getting darker. Bobby was right. If Dean was hurt and lying down somewhere, they could easily miss him. Whatever was out there be damned. But, before he could get a sound out, Dean's voice pierced through the darkness.

_"DAD!" _The scream ripped through the trees and made John's blood run cold, his whipping around to the direction it came from. They were too late. _NO!_

"DEAN!"

More to come!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ** This one got a little away from me. I was at 3000 words and figured I only had a couple hundred more to go. A couple hundred turned into almost 1000. LOL The end of the part may seem a little cut short but if I kept going, it would've been even longer. So, the conclusion will be in the next chapter. I feel the need to remind everyone that this whole story is un-beta'd. I do go over it again and again to catch all the mistakes but I'm sure I might miss a few. Hope there aren't too many. Anyway, enjoy! Oh! And thanks so much to the kind reviews! All of you have made me explode with glee. :D

**Part 4**

If he had been anywhere else, like maybe inside their rental with walls and doors and shit to keep him safe, Dean would think it was a beautiful night. He could see the stars through the trees and make out the tiny sliver of the moon ever so often. It was kind of peaceful if he discounted the fact that something was hunting him instead of the other way around. He wondered if this is what they felt like; terror running through their mind right before the final blow. That is, if they felt anything at all. Dean didn't like to think of things like that. If it was evil, they killed it. End of story. But this being the victim shit was getting old fast. Trying to navigate through a friggin' maze of trees had gotten old a while ago.

He hadn't realized it but he'd started to babble out loud to himself. That wasn't what caught his attention, though. Dean stopped for a second and stretched his hearing, trying to catch what he'd heard.

_Dad? _God, how he hoped but knew that wasn't it. He listened. He could hear breathing, raspy and desperate. Something was... _Oh shit! _Dean took off running, something jumping from the bushes behind him and giving chase. He didn't dare look back for fear of losing momentum. His heart pounded in his ears, loud and unrelenting; with each thundering step he took. He willed himself to go faster, for his legs to stop burning. He could hear it grunting and growling behind him, getting closer. Hell, he could smell it. Later, he'd realize it was the deadening smell of fear coming not from the beast, but from himself. He couldn't breathe. He knew this was it. His eyes stung with unshed tears as everything came into focus. He never shared his shit, he hogged the remote, yelled at Sam, let his dad down... left Sam alone. God, he was going to leave Sam alone.

He was down before he realized what happened. He hit hard, his body tumbling through the forest debris that sliced and scraped his flesh. He grunted to a stop in front of a fallen tree, dazed and unable to breathe. The tears he'd been trying to hold back now fell freely as he could no longer fight the pain enveloping his whole body. He sucked in as much air as he could manage and screamed, his voice hoarse and desperate.

"DAD!"

Dark spots danced in front of his eyes and his vision grayed around the edges. The last thing he saw and heard before he fell into oblivion were two cold, dark eyes and the hopeful delusion of his father's voice in the distance calling back to him.

----------

John's stomach dropped and his heart felt as though it would explode in his chest. His son's scream tore through him and almost made him weak in the knees. _Too far away_, he thought. He was too God damn far away. They'd never reach him in time. He wasn't even sure Dean had heard him call back but the second his name left John's lips he was running, hoping Bobby wasn't far behind.

It was a good half mile before they saw anything and what they saw momentarily took them aback. It looked like some sort of mangled half man, half wolf; its body motley covered in fur and skin and blood. It was something neither man had really ever seen before. Dean would've said it was some kind of mutated freak from an old monster movie.

It had Dean by his shirt, his son hanging lifeless from the creature's claws. Its muzzle was slowly grazing the skin along Dean's exposed neck. Bobby dropped his duffel on the ground and the beast turned sharply, dropping Dean like a rag-doll. It stood its full height and let out a strangled howl.

"Bobby, what the hell is that?"

John already had his shotgun raised and fired before waiting for an answer. The shot forced the beast back but did little more than piss it off. It ran at them. Another shot had it stumbling and John quickly started to reload, looking back at Bobby, whose own shotgun was on the ground.

"Bobby! What-" John stopped mid sentence when he saw what his friend was reaching for. John didn't have time to do the same and instead finished reloading the buckshot into his sawed off. He got off one more shot before the thing swiped at him, knocking him on his back. Bobby had finally got the magazine loaded in his pistol and took aim, clipping the beast in the shoulder. It yelped, the sound angry and brief. Quickly turning and lunging towards its greatest threat, Bobby had one shot before giant claws tore into him. He wasted no time firing. The shot pierced its heart and it dropped, its death quick.

John stared, his mouth hanging slightly open as he brought his hand up to rest on his bleeding chest. On the ground, less than five feet away, lay the beast. Bobby stood just ahead, his gun slowly lowering. Both men were still until time seemed to speed back up and then John was moving.

"Dean!"

John heard one final shot from Bobby's gun, knowing it was mostly for reassurance that the thing was dead. He didn't care right now. All he cared about was getting to his son. John leapt over the fallen tree and fell to his knees at his son's side. There were a few scrapes on his face but other than that he couldn't tell if Dean had any other injuries.

"Dean? Son, can you hear me? Come on, dude, open your eyes." He was afraid to move him; afraid to touch him at all. He almost didn't hear Bobby approach.

"John?" The rest of the question needn't be said. _ Is he all right?_

"I don't know."

"His arm looks broken." John frowned at that.

"Yeah. Shit." He saw it now, the slight swelling and faint bruising. There could be other things wrong that he couldn't see. Moving him was risky and they couldn't call for help.

"We're not going to get any help out here. Gonna have to move him." It seemed like Bobby was reading his mind. Or John had simply been thinking out loud. He shook his head.

"You take care of that- whatever the hell that thing was?"

"Wanted to check on you two." John glared at him. "Hey, it's _dead_, all right? Burning it can wait five damn minutes. You're bleeding, by the way." John ignored him.

"I've got Dean. Finish it so we can get the hell out of here." Bobby walked away mumbling something about stubborn jackasses and taking orders or not taking them. John didn't really care. Gently, he scooped Dean into his arms, trying his damnedest not to jostle him. His knees popped when he stood, causing him to grimace. Either he was getting too old or Dean was just too big. Sort of felt like both. A fireman's carry was out of the question because he didn't like the way Dean was breathing. This was going to have to do, whether John's knees/back/whole damn body liked it or not.

John walked as carefully as he could back over to Bobby, who was putting everything back in his duffel. The light from the fire illuminated every scrape on Dean's face and John wished he had an extra hand to brush the dirt caked hair aside and out of Dean's closed eyes. Kid needed a haircut. The thing that finally brought Dean back to consciousness was the putrid smell of burning flesh.

"Nasty." The retort was groggy but John immediately relaxed.

"Dean? Hey, bought time, kiddo. You were startin' to worry me."

"Dad? When- Are you carrying me?" He sounded indignant and John couldn't help it. He laughed, the fire dancing off his glistening eyes.

Dean had heavily protested to being carried the rest of the way, assuring both his dad and Bobby that he was fine, and argued to be put down. John was actually happy to oblige, his back already straining against Dean's weight. Dean's height was average for his age but he was bulkier than most 14 year olds; solid and strong, just like a Winchester should be. But that wasn't the only reason he was glad to put Dean down. The boy stunk to high heaven. First order of business after seeing to his arm was a shower.

"Screw that, I'm showering first. There's like, animal shit on me."

Bobby snorted and John reached to tousle Dean's hair before thinking better of it. As filthy as Dean was, though, John didn't want to waste anymore time in getting him checked out.

"What was that thing?" Dean tried to act unaffected but John saw the shudder that ran through him and knew it wasn't just from the chilly night air. Bobby was the one to answer, as John had no clue what to tell him.

"Could've been a skin walker. Hard to tell since it looked like it hadn't made it through the change, but that's my best guess."

"Fugliest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"That's for damn sure." Bobby replied, heartily agreeing.

John caught Dean staring at him before his eyes moved to John's chest. John waved him off.

"I'm fine. It barely touched me."

"Tis but a scratch." Dean spoke in a lousy British accent. John arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on, dad! _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_? Even Bobby got that one."

"Then I guess he's cooler than your old man." Dean rolled his eyes. "You sure you're okay to walk?"

"I broke my arm, not my legs." John gave him a pointed stare, telling Dean just how much he appreciated his smart assed reply. Dean gave him a cheeky smile. "Sir."

"And how did that happen?" The smile disappeared from Dean's face quickly.

"Ifelloutofatree." Dean mumbled.

"I didn't catch that."

"I feel out of a damn tree! Okay? Can we go?" Dean didn't wait for an answer and started walking, only to stop and turn when Bobby let out a loud whistle. Both John and Bobby hiked their thumbs in the other direction.

"We're never going camping, ever." Dean grumbled as he walked past them.

----------

While Dean seemed to be no worse for wear, he was quiet on the long hike back. Part of him wanted to give in and tell his dad how scared out of his mind he'd been. An even bigger part wished he could've let his pride go and take back what he said about being fine. Sure, physically, he wasn't so bad off. His arm would need a cast and he was going to be pretty damn sore for days, but what hit him the hardest was that he was exhausted. It was all he could do just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He wanted to shower, definitely, but he wished the trip to the clinic in town could wait until tomorrow because all he wanted to do was climb into bed and burrow himself as deep as he could and sleep. That is, if his mind would let him. He hasn't had a real nightmare for a while but he knew this day would haunt him. He was pretty sure that once he was checked out, they'd be moving on again and he was glad. Part of him felt a little gypped, though. He badly wanted to get a piece of those guys that dumped him out there.

God, he was lucky. This could've ended much worse and there wasn't anything worse than dead. He didn't know what happened between passing out (he was so leaving that part out when he retold this story) and waking up. He knew his dad got "scratched" and the thing was dead. What he couldn't figure out was why _he _wasn't dead. He thought for sure he was a goner.

John saw the lines of exhaustion on his son's face and every time Dean pinched his brow. He worried Dean hadn't been truthful about how "fine" he was. He taught his boys to suck up a lot of things but if something serious was going on, he needed to know about it.

"Dean, you okay?" Dean stumbled a little when he turned his head. John grabbed his good arm to steady him. Once he got his bearings, Dean started walking again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure that fall didn't-"

"Just bruises. Really, dad, I'm okay. Just tired is all." Dean bit his lip in contemplation. "Dad? Why didn't it kill me? Pretty sure you two didn't just magically appear the second it caught me."

Again, it was Bobby that answered. "Not to sound crass, but skin walkers are known to play with their food, so to speak."

"I didn't know skin walkers ate people."

"Some do. There's more than one kind of skin walker." John answered.

"You sure that's what it was?"

"Nope. But it's dead so I don't give a rat's ass at this point." Dean smirked at Bobby. He could tell his dad didn't completely agree. It _was_ a little odd. Normally, Bobby liked to have all the answers, just like dad did.

"Wait a minute. You two came charging in here without knowing what you were up against? You broke your own rules?! Tsk tsk, guys."

"If we waited, you'd be dead."

Dean went quiet again. There wasn't really a comeback for that.

----------

About five minutes from their place, Dean started to get anxious. It wasn't everyday that you thought you were going to die. He'd had some intense thoughts near the end and quite frankly, they were giving him a headache. But the one that stuck out the most was Sam. He was glad his dad left him behind but he didn't like his little brother being on his own like that. He knew well enough that too many bad things could happen when Sam was left alone.

"You leave Sam alone?" It wasn't really a question.

"He's fine, Dean."

Dean wasn't so sure. He knew Sam probably wasn't told anything but that was almost worse sometimes. The imagination was a dangerous place in this line of work and Dean had too much experience with that for the day.

"I know. I mean, it was safer leaving him behind it's just-"

"Just what?"

"You know how he gets when he worries."

"He'll be fine once we get back."

_Yeah, maybe. _ He wanted to say more; a lot more. He was pretty sure his dad wouldn't appreciate it though. John hadn't been too happy to find out Dean had basically told Sam everything when he finally did make it home after that Christmas two years ago. It wasn't like Dean had much of a choice in the matter thanks to Sam's snooping. It didn't matter. Sam knew the truth now and Dean was actually happy he didn't have to lie to him anymore. The big flaw in that was now that Sam knew, it was a lot harder to protect him from the stuff most 10 year olds had nightmares about because Sam knew that stuff was real. The monster under his bed could really get him. So yeah, he hated leaving his brother behind with nothing more to do than worry.

When they pulled into the drive and parked, John and Bobby immediately got out of the car. Dean realized he'd have to move eventually but now that every last bit of adrenaline was gone, he felt like he weighed a ton. He didn't notice his dad come around to his door and he started when it was swung open.

"You got this?" Dean wanted to say no. He felt like telling him to just leave him there and he'll sleep in the car. He heaved a huge sigh and swung his legs around.

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Dean responded, exasperated, then grimaced at his choice of words. Thankfully, John let that one slide.

The front door was wrenched open before any of them even got to it and Sam came rushing at them.

"Dean! Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. Dad's the one that's bleeding." John grunted and shook his head. Dean Winchester, master of deflection.

"Dad?"

"I'm fine. We're all fine. What did I tell you about opening doors before you know what was outside?"

"What? I knew it was you."

"Sam-"

"Are y'all gonna stand out here shootin' the shit or you going inside? I'm sure Dean's wanting that shower. Hell, being trapped in a car with him, I feel like I need one now."

"Hey, I don't smell that bad!" Dean called after Bobby's retreating form.

"We're tossin' those clothes. Go on, get in and clean up."

"What about, you know?"

"Clinics closed for the night and the nearest ER is over 30 miles away. It'll wait till morning. Just gonna have to be careful."

"Why? I thought you said you were fine?" Sam directed the question at John, narrowing his eyes. He didn't seem to notice the way Dean was holding his arm.

"Ask your brother." John hauled up the rest of his gear and walked past them, inside. Dean glared at him then turned back to Sam, putting on his best "I'm okay" face.

"I'm fine, Sam, really. Just hurt my arm a little."

"More than a little if dad wants it checked out."

"It's nothing."

"Liar. You break it?"

"I fell on it."

"You broke it."

"Whatever."

"Dean-"

"Going inside now."

He hated it when Sam worried. It always turned into annoyance.

----------

While Dean was in the shower and Sam was seemingly guarding the door, for what John didn't know, he and Bobby went outside after a quick beer. Bobby had already said his good-byes, needing to get back on the road and home. John walked his friend to his truck and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was frazzled but his face was all business.

"Something on your mind, John?"

"How did I miss it? How the hell didn't I know that it was just some skin walker?"

"Maybe because it wasn't just some skin walker? John, I don't know exactly what that thing was. If it was a skin walker, it sure as hell ain't in the right region. Could've been a fluke, hell it could've been some nut job that couldn't handle the shit they were delving into. Truth is, we won't ever know for sure." John opened his mouth to argue that point. "And don't start with that need to know shit. Deal with it."

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice, now do I?"

"Nope. John, Dean was lucky. Hell, _we_ were lucky. Remember that."

"Yeah. I'll see ya, Bobby." Bobby nodded, stepping into his truck.

"If you're lookin' to lay low for a bit, you and the boys are welcome to stay at mine."

John nodded. "I'll let you know." The offer was out there but Bobby knew there was a 50/50 chance that John would actually take him up on it. He wasn't going to dwell on it. Either he'd see John in a day or so or he wouldn't. He gave a final wave and then drove off.

----------

Dean finished with his shower, feeling a little better. He had some ugly bruises forming on his chest and his arm was still throbbing but he felt clean at least. He swiped his hand across the steam covered mirror and stared at his face, furrowing his brow at the scrape on his cheek. _Must've happened when I fell_, he thought. It had burned slightly in the shower but he ignored it. His mind was too preoccupied with other things. One of those things was standing at the door when he opened it, startling him and causing him to jump.

"Jesus Christ, Sam! What the hell, dude?"

"Sorry. I-" He paused and looked down at his socked feet. "I didn't meant to scare you."

Dean scoffed, albeit not very convincingly. "You didn't scare me, dweeb. Why were guarding the door like a loser?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow. "Why won't you admit I scared you?"

"Uh, maybe because I've seen scarier shit tonight than my 10 year old, dork of a brother?"

"Better not let dad here you cussing."

"I'm pretty sure I've got a green flag on that front. Besides, I'm fourteen now. Practically an adult. You gonna move or do I have to stand here with my junk in the breeze all night?"

Sam stepped to the side but followed Dean to their room. Dean sighed, exasperated.

"Dude, this ain't a peep show."

Sam rolled his eyes but turned around while Dean got dressed. Neither spoke for the next few minutes but Dean knew something was weighing heavy on Sam's mind. That something wasn't exactly what Dean expected.

"I read dad's research." Sam all but blurted. Dean's first instinct was to be pissed because Sam knew to stay away from dad's things. But then he took a better look at his brother. The kid looked like a wreck. Dean saw some of that research himself before living through the real thing. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose in a huff.

"You know you weren't supposed to. Guess you know why now, huh?"

"I thought-" Sam stopped, looking frustrated. "I hate when he doesn't tell us things. He always goes off and I never know anything and it- I just hate it. I thought I would feel better if I looked." Dean was pretty sure Sam stopped himself from saying _It scares me_.

"Did you?" Sam was quiet. "Yeah, I figured."

"That could've been you." Sam spoke so quietly, Dean almost didn't hear him. He was quickly learning to hate this part. Ever since dad had started to let Dean come with him on hunts, he had to reassure Sam more and more.

"It wasn't. It won't be. Dad would never let anything happen to us, Sam. I knew he'd find me." It wasn't the honest truth. He didn't know dad would find him, he only hoped. He wasn't going to tell Sam that.

"I hate this."

"You've said that like a million times. I hate to break it to you, but you're gonna have to suck it up. Besides, it's not all guts and gore. We get to shoot evil sons of bitches and save the day. That's pretty damn awesome."

"I guess."

"You guess? Dude, you're so lame."

"Dude, you're the one that got your ass handed to you today. _You're_ lame."

"I'm gonna let that one slide, Samual." Sam jumped and whirled around to see John leaning against the door frame.

"Dean cusses." As if that was a good argument.

"Dean's older." Even as he said it, John glared at his oldest. Dean merely shrugged and insinuated that Sam was crazy, making a twirling motion with his finger at his head. Sam caught him and reared back to punch him. The blow was light compared what he knew Sam could pelt out but he winced anyway, smirking when Sam got yelled at.

"He did that on purpose."

"Enough, you two." John was inwardly glad that they both seemed to be acting pretty normal, despite what happened tonight. He knew Dean would talk Sam down and he was relieved. Still, he was sure neither of his boys would be sleeping well tonight.

Conclusion coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I'm aware that I took entirely too long to post this and I apologize. Life got in the way a lot and then I just ended up forgetting all about the damn thing. But here's the conclusion and I hope you enjoy it.

**Part 5**

The next morning, Dean had gotten his cast. He bitched the entire ride back, already complaining that it itched. John told him to stop messing with it and Sam wanted to know if he could draw on it.

"Dude, you're such a pansy ass."

Sam stopped talking to him after that; his arms folded tightly across his chest and a scowl on his face.

They were all irritable, none of them having gotten any sleep the night before. Sam kept his eyes on his brother all night, scared he might vanish. Whenever he started to doze, he'd jerk himself awake and check Dean's bed. Dean slept off and on, alternating between the start of nightmares to jarring his injured arm enough to waken him. John had spent the remainder of the night cleaning up his notes and such and writing the incident in his journal. By the time morning came, the three of them looked haggard. Dean said something akin to zombies and John figured looking for another job could to wait. So Dean got his cast and then they all got breakfast.

John stared at his boys throughout the meal, neither noticing his intense scrutiny. This whole thing had been hard on all of them. He knew Dean would be all right. The kid had a tough skin, just like his old man. He'd get over this. Sam was a slightly different story. John could see the worry swimming in Sam's eyes and how he didn't want to let Dean out of his sight. For all their fighting and arguing, when it came down to it, they'd do anything for each other. It made him proud. John shook his head. He didn't have to worry. Dean would get Sam through this too.

Dean stared up at his dad through his lashes, knowing he was being watched. For once, it didn't bother him. Dean was never one to dwell on thing. Shit was what it was and you can't really change that. But, this last experience left him a little shaky. He'd never come so close to dying before. He wasn't even sure that was what bothered him most. He'd been unprepared. He barely knew how to handle himself out there and he was surprised he'd lasted as long as he did. He didn't want that happening again and he got the feeling that his dad didn't either. He saw the look in his dad's eyes after they made it out. Worry was replaced with determination and he was pretty sure Sam wasn't going to like what came out of it. Dean didn't care. He just wanted to be able to handle himself if something like that ever happened again.

When they were finished eating and were making their way out to the car, two of the boys that had left Dean in the woods were walking towards the diner. Eye contact was made and Dean started to move before John's hand clamped firmly on his shoulder.

"No." Dean clenched his jaw but listened to his dad and kept walking. Once he reached the car, he turned and settled his back again the door. The two boys nervously approached them, they're eyes quickly glancing at Dean's cast. The one that had told John about Dean's 'disappearance' had been the one to speak.

"Uh, hey. Dean, right? We're, uh, we're really glad your dad found you." The boy paused and swallowed, trying to ignore the clenching in both Dean and John's fists. "Uh, listen, we're really sorry about leaving you out there. Honestly, man, it was a joke and we went back for you. Look, we're just sorry. No hard feelings."

It surprised them all when it was Sam that spoke next.

"Yeah, no hard feelings. I mean, you stupid dipshits only almost got my brother killed. But I guess it's okay since it was just a joke. "

"Sam." It was a warning tone but there was a quirk to John's lips that he tried to hide. But damn if he wasn't proud of his youngest right then. Both boys stared down at their feet. Must suck to get reprimanded by a 10 year old but John wasn't going to let them off that easily.

"Dean, Sam, get in the car."

"Dad-" Dean started.

"Now." There was grumbling but both listened. Dean thought about rolling down the window when John hooked a finger, meaning for the two boys to follow. He badly wanted to hear what his dad was telling them, as did Sam.

"They look freaked. Betcha dad's laying it on thick." Dean nodded. It still wasn't fair though. He felt gypped. The one that he really wanted a piece of wasn't anywhere in sight. Probably just as well. Dad would kick his ass for messing up the new cast.

Once John was finished, both boys turned and walked away quickly. Dean frowned, thinking it was kind of anticlimactic. Either dad was losing his touch or they ran off to piss themselves in private. Dean grinned. Definitely the latter.

When John got in the car, he turned around to face Sam and fixed him with a glare. Sam shrank a little at the look and spared a glance at Dean. In the end, John sighed and shook his head.

"Could you two at least pretend I raised you with some manners? Sam, your mouth's getting as bad as Deans."

Dean's face split into a wide grin and his eyes lit up, as if it was some sort of compliment. Sam's smile emulated his brother's.

"Sorry, sir." Both replied, though neither of them really meant it.

Arriving back at the rental, John instructed both boys to pack up their stuff. Dean stopped in the doorway, not wanting to question John but wanting to know why he'd changed his mind.

"Dad? I thought you weren't going to look for a hunt?"

"I'm not. At least not yet. Figured we should get out of this town, though." Sam's ears perked up at that.

"Where we going?"

John furrowed his brow. He didn't pretend that he hadn't been thinking about it since Bobby had offered but he hadn't actually planned on going there. Staying put seemed like a good idea for all of 5 minutes and John had already been itching to move on before breakfast even ended. Another nameless town wasn't what his boys needed right now, though.

"Bobby offered his place for a few days." John shouldn't feel so jealous at how excited that made Sam but he couldn't help feel the twinge when Sam whooped and ran off to pack up his stuff. Dean, on the other hand, moved a little slower.

"We don't have to, you know. I'm fine."

"Not the only reason we're going." Mostly a lie and Dean knew it.

"Right, because you love each other's company that much. You two fight like an old married couple."

John decided not to comment.

"Pack your stuff. Whatever ain't packed in the next half hour gets left behind." That got Dean moving. John did the same, grunting when the boys started to argue.

"Hey! What are you doing with my walkman?"

----------

Surprisingly, both boys slept most of the way to Bobby's. John was glad he didn't have to stop but he desperately needed to stretch his legs. The last couple of days were catching up to him. Dean twitched ever so often in the passenger seat but otherwise slept soundly. Sam was dead to the world and John was grateful. If he was sleeping, that meant he felt that Dean was safe. Getting out of that town was definitely the right choice.

When the Impala pulled up to Bobby's house, his friend was on the back steps drinking a beer. When John got out of the car, he noticed an unopened one sitting next to him. He wasn't going to ask how Bobby knew he was coming.

Dean got out of the car groggily before John even had a chance to wake him and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The long nap only made him feel more out of it and he hoped he could grab his stuff later. He turned to the back door and opened it. Sam finally stirred at the sound and blinked lazily up at Dean.

"We there?"

"Yeah. Get up."

"I'm up." Sam looked around. "Where's dad?" Dean pointed to the house, too tired to spare any more words.

Both boys walked up to the house together, stopping in front of Bobby and John. They both said a mumbled hello to Bobby, smiles on their faces. Dean looked to his dad and held out his hand.

"Keys?" John shook his head.

"I'll get it. Both of you get inside." John didn't miss the "thank God" that Dean mumbled as he passed, Sam on his heels.

"They look beat." Bobby said after taking a swig from his beer.

"Didn't really sleep much last night."

"What about you?"

"Slept fine." Bobby eyed him carefully, knowing that was a bunch of horse shit, but he didn't argue. Much.

"You look like shit." The side of John's mouth quirked up.

"Yeah, well." And he didn't say anything else. He didn't need to.

End.


End file.
